


Lawyers, Time Lords and Dads, Oh My!

by GuardianofFun



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Time Travel, but also mostly angst, he is mentioned once im sorry, it's like... barely professor layton tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: It's been so many years since Miles' dad died, and there are so many things he wishes he could say. The chance finally lands in his lap though, and he isn't entirely sure what to say. It doesn't help he's got a headache and a strange man in pinstripes is running around the place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I wrote the lovely Mel for her birthday! (Go check her out at letteredheart, she's amazing!) It stared from one tumblr post, and inspiration hit but it needed a (semi) plausible explanation, hence the Doctor... trust me, it makes sense. Kind of. To be honest this was just something silly, but I thought some other people on here might enjoy this! 
> 
> Apologies for the overuse of the name John Smith it just didn't makes sense for Miles to call him the Doctor yet lol
> 
> (The post that inspired this - http://askaceattorney.tumblr.com/post/152505569194/dear-chris-i-hope-its-not-inappropriate-to )

Miles isn’t sure exactly where he is, there’s a throbbing in the back of his head and everything is far too bright. He groans, pushing himself up from wherever he’s lying, and when the colours of the room return to a shade less likely to make him vomit, he realises he is sat in the lobby of one of the many courtrooms. He groans, pushing a hand to his head in an effort to alleviate the pain. 

“Looks sore,” he hears a voice say and his head snaps up. The man he finds sitting next to him grins wildly. “It’ll hurt for a while, you got a nasty bump back there,” he says and Miles cannot help but stare at this strange man while he struggles to find his words. He tries to piece together something about this man - he’s cheery that’s for sure, has no idea what constitutes ‘sensible shoe wear’ and apparently knows him. The prosecutor finds his hand moving across his chest to grasp at his arm, something he hopes might hold him steady. 

“My apologies, but who exactly… are you?” he asks, and the mans eyes suddenly turn somewhat serious.

“You don’t remember? Oh great - the professor said something like this might happen,” and the man starts talking a mile a minute, his peculiar English accent feeling wrong echoing through the prosecutions lobby.

“-and then when they started shooting at us, you started yelling and then-” the stranger suddenly breaks off, realising he is completely lost, and then pulls out a watch that Miles is sure looks broken. He sucks a breath in through his teeth and shoves the watch back in his pocket. 

“You’re not following me are you? No worries Miles, all I need you to do is go out there and do your job, okay?” Miles blinks slowly, he doesn’t understand at all and he can feel panic building up inside him. His hand shoots out as the man rises to his feet, and he grabs his arm. 

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice steely. The man shoots him a grin and disentangles himself from the prosecutors grip. “John Smith,” comes the reply. The man is already fading from view, and then Miles hears the bell that means court beings soon. There is nobody else in the room, not now that John Smith has left so that can only mean that Miles is prosecuting this case. He wonders for a moment what would happen if he just refused to go but he couldn’t. Miles Edgeworth was too proud to call in sick, especially when he was stood by the doors of the courtroom. With a deep breath, and a promise of a Steel Samurai marathon that night, he pushed open the doors of the courtroom. 

* * *

As he enters the echoing chamber of the courtroom, Miles feels a wave of something inexplainable run through him, a feeling he cannot quite pinpoint, but it just seems as though the universe is trying to tell him something. He shakes his pounding head to stop himself feeling such foolish things, and looks out across the slowly filling courtroom. The judge sits, looking the same as he always has; shuffling papers above them while the gallery above them fills slowly. His eyes drift to down to the bench in front of him and there’s a folder which surprises him. He flicks it open to find notes in what looks like his own hand, so he assumes that he had prepared for the case even if something has caused his memory to blur out those particular moments. A voice somewhere in the back of his head tells him the Phoenix has done a case with less information than this, and he cannot help a chuckle as he skims through the notes. He does a double take at the picture that has been attached to the file. John Smith. Then what had he been doing in the prosecutors lobby? Miles shook his head, feeling it tighten with the building stress of the day. Breathe in, breathe out, he repeated to himself a few times. He could ask those questions later.

It seems a simple enough case on the surface. John had been accused of murdering a young woman who had been found dead outside his hotel room in the city. Now, there are some things that are impossible to shake and Manfred’s teachings are some of those - the instinctual snap of the fingers, to point his finger at John and within five minutes have him escorted out in cuffs.That though, was the Miles of years ago. The Demon Prosecutor, the cold and uncaring Miles. Though he doesn’t know if he will be facing Phoenix just yet, he knows now what it means to be a prosecutor, what it means to find the truth. He will drag out his case as long as it takes, as long as he finds the truth. No matter who steps onto the stand, or who defends them he _will_ find the truth. 

Something just seems off about the case, something in the eyes of John Smith that tell him he didn’t do this. Once again, his thoughts flit to Phoenix, and how this must be what his partner called gut instinct. At yet another thought of Phoenix, Miles finally wonders who exactly he is facing in court today. He catches a glimpse of a man as he sweeps his eyes across the defences bench, dark suit and bright tie, hair slicked back. Miles’ breath catches in his throat.

Glasses, black rimmed and thick. A defined jaw and cheekbones sharp enough that they could slice through anything. Those _eyes._

His fathers eyes. 

The throbbing pain in his head increases tenfold as he watches the man, with all the same mannerisms as his father, straighten his tie and push his glasses up his nose. He watches the man’s head turn to face the judge who is saying something, watches for the nod he knows will come and sure enough, the man nods in the same sharp way his father did. He listens to the man respond, he responds to the name Edgeworth, and when he replies it is with the same deep voice of his father, the serious voice that he used on the phone and in court. Miles wondered if this mans voice got lighter when he spoke to his children (did he even have children?), wondered if his accent softened and his speech was littered with chuckles and smiles and he wondered - who exactly was this man?

He realises too late that the judge has asked him something and has been looking at him expectantly for some time. His head throbs once more and his eyes can no longer find their way to look into the judges eyes.  


“The… prosecution… requests a-” and then everything goes incredibly dark. 

* * *

When the sound of murmurs finally wakes him, Miles finds himself curled on a small bed, a garish blue sheet beneath him that stays tucked tightly to the bed. The solitary pillow beneath him is virtually non-existent. He lifts his head and realises he is in the small first aid room of the court rooms. There aren’t any windows, and the light have been left off, which he is thankful for, his head still aching as it is. The room sits at the end of a hallway, the only light nearby coming for the light at the end of the corridor.The room could barely be called comfortable in size, less so when the two chairs are occupied - Phoenix and that John Smith. Nonetheless, it is quite cosy.  


“Miles, you’re awake!” Phoenix says, his voice painfully bright and loud. Miles winces automatically and Phoenix looks apologetic for all of a few seconds before continuing to speak, albeit quieter now. 

“You, uh… were out for a while there, you have a concussion, we think,” Phoenix said, one hand reaching up to rub at his neck. John leans forwards, his elbows on his knees and in the small space is almost touching Miles. 

“Yeah, I tried to tell them I’m not _that_ kind of doctor, but I mean, I gave you a once over,” his hand dips into a pocket and he produces a slim metal cylinder that he waves at Miles. “Now you’re awake, I can give you one last look” he says and he leans over with no warning, grasps Miles chin and waves the device across his eyes. It shines bright blue, emitting a low whine. Miles is so stunned by the mans lack of boundaries he doesn’t move. The man grins, pockets the device again and smiles. 

“Yeah, you should be fine. Just no more taking plasma bursts to the face, yeah?” Miles nods, and then watches as the man leans back and glances at Phoenix who has become quiet and thoughtful. Phoenix nods, John nods in return and then he takes off out of the room at breakneck speed.

Phoenix turns to Miles who can feel panic building in his chest once again, and coupled with the concussion, he just feels nauseous. He could cry. His partner leans over and takes hold of one of his hands. 

“Please,” Miles says, though it is barely more than a whisper. “Please explain what on Earth is going on, Phoenix. I cannot-” he pushes a hand to his eyes because the tears are worryingly close and if he starts crying he’ll start hyperventilating and then- there’s a shift around him and Phoenix squeezes himself onto the bed beside him and wraps his arms around him. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Phoenix starts, his head on Miles’ shoulder. “This was.. This was supposed to… Oh how do I even start?” He pushes back and goes back to holding Miles’ hand. That, Miles can handle. A warm, firm link to the real world, something he can hold onto. 

“You remember the Professor, right? Professor Layton,” and Miles nods. They had met briefly once in London, but he knew a lot about his (mis)adventures with Phoenix and Maya. Phoenix smiles and continues. 

“Well, he knew the Doctor, the uh, well the guy who was just here. John Smith, it’s-” Miles scoffs. 

“A fake name?” Phoenix chuckles. 

“Yeah, course. Well the Doctor he… travels. Through space… occasionally time. This was-” Miles goes to object to the absurdity of it all but Phoenix raises a hand. “I know you won’t believe me at first, let me explain it all and then if that doesn’t jog your memory, we can… prove it again? Okay well, the Professor was telling me how the Doctor had mentioned something about us being an interesting ‘point’ in time so he sent him over to us, and we spoke for ages, do you remember that at all?”  


Somewhere a memory flickered into life, something about discussing the laws of sixteenth century Germany over tea. Miles nodded, once again.

“Well yeah, we started just chatting. Then the Doctor offered us a trip and you… you asked about…” Phoenix’s eyes suddenly drop from Miles’.

“You asked about your dad. And the Doctor said it was a fixed point you know, that uh, your dad - anyways he said maybe if we were careful about it we could manage something, but he can’t fly his ship to save his life and well we landed on some other ship and-” Phoenix stops abruptly. “I’m not making any more sense am I? We got into a situation, let’s put it that way - and that’s when you got shot with some sort of phaser and got this concussion of yours. Then when we got out and actually landed here to find your dad, the Doctor went and got himself accused of murder. Which he didn’t do by the way, we got to the truth of it soon enough while you were napping,” Phoenix says with a grin. “I took a leaf out of your book Miles, grabbed the nearest prosecutors badge and boom!” 

While Phoenix’s laughter fades, Miles considers his words. How utterly ridiculous. Yet, as he thinks on it, he begins to recall moments too. He knows the Doctor’s face, he remembers the ship and the guns and- it was all there. Memories that were hazy but real. Utterly impossible but undeniably happening. 

“… I believe that I recall most of these things, if somewhat vaguely,” he says, running the hand that isn’t in Phoenix’s across his face. The tightening in his chest has dissipated slowly and he let out a long breath. He glanced at Phoenix who looked back with tears in his eyes. 

“I… I never meant for all this to go so wrong Miles,” he said, voice already wobbling. Miles couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. His over emotional boyfriend, always crying, was once again something normal in this bizarre place (or should he say time?) 

“Phoenix, honestly it’s fine. I’ve had worse than a headache before, I will survive. Now, ah…” he trails off, not entirely sure he wants to ask what he was about to. His father was here somewhere, his father was alive here, now. His heart thuds against his ribs. Phoenix, the perfect boyfriend that he is can read him like a book though, and nods. 

“He’s still here. He was kinda worried when you just dropped, asked me afterwards if you were okay. The Doctor’s gone off now to let him know you’re awake… he wanted to check in on you,” Phoenix says - and suddenly he is crying. Not quite the hysterical sobs that came with one too many drinks, but tears nonetheless. 

“He… he’s just like I remember him Miles,” and Miles heart flutters once again. He had, in all honesty never thought about the fact that other people had been close to his father. Their family was so small, as a child he had had his father all to himself - but Gregory had been a loving man, kind to everyone including Phoenix on the many nights he had been at the Edgeworth house. This was weird, strange and sad for Phoenix too, Miles thought and he grasped his hand a little tighter. 

At the gradual sound of footsteps, Miles’ head lifts, and Phoenix follows his gaze. 

“That’s…” Miles finds the words impossible to say. Phoenix nods, giving Miles a pat on the arm and then standing. 

“I’ll give you guys some space. Just remember,” and his eyes are once again filled with tears. “You… you can’t… changing things Miles, it would-” Miles nods, his mouth was set in a sad kind of smile. 

“Yes, I’ve seen enough science fiction to know it won’t end well. I’ll… be good,” he said and Phoenix smiles once more and makes for the door, before glancing back over his shoulder.

“Oh and to uh, stop awkward questions, you’re a Fey for now, okay?” Miles smiles back with a bob of his head. With that, Phoenix is gone from sight, past the opaque window. There’s a moment of low voices speaking and then suddenly his father is there, in the doorway. 

He is just as tall as Miles remembers, he feels nine again while he sits on the bed and looks up at his fathers kind eyes. Gregory offers his hand, and Miles takes it, trying his damnedest not to let his tremble as he shakes Gregory’s hand.  


“I’m glad to see you’re doing better, Mr. Fey,” Gregory says, and Miles smiles. He struggles for a second with his voice, watching instead as Gregory takes up the seat opposite the bed. Miles looks over, a shiver running down his spine at the sight of Gregory, level with him. He is not a child anymore, but when he sits like that, back relaxed comfortably on the chair, hands crossed and resting on his knees, Miles cannot help but want to climb up and hug his father. But he is a grown man, and these feelings are ridiculously childish and they are not appropriate right now. 

“Thank you,” he manages to croak out, and Gregory nods. “It’s okay, I insisted that I come and see you afterwards, to see that you were okay,” the man leaned forward. “But you… also remind me of someone. You seem familiar, have we met?” he asks and Miles almost laughs out loud. So much for a fake name, his father is the smartest man he knows of course he would see right through him. Miles shakes his head, wishing he knew what to say, but he doesn’t want to talk and take up precious time because right now, right here, his father is speaking, these are more words and moments with his father and he wants to keep them, he wants to make sure he can cherish each and every word his father speaks. Too many were forgotten, the curse of childhood. Ignorant of the future he let moments slip by without a second thought, snatches of conversations, small moments with his father. Gone. 

“No.. I don’t believe we have Mr. Edgeworth,” and saying his own name feels odd on his tongue. This all feels odd. Gregory’s eyebrows quirk up, in the same way his own do. 

“You’re sure? Huh, okay then… you do look a lot like someone I know though,” he adds, and his smile is back. Miles finds the strength somewhere to laugh a little without crying. “I must have… one of those faces,” he replies. Gregory’s hand drifts to his chin and he taps at it. 

“Mmm, maybe. Your hair too,” he chuckles now too. “I’ve not seen such unusual style on very many people,” he says and Miles can see that while Gregory smiles, his eyes are alight with thoughts, he can virtually see the logical leaps he is making. Gregory continues talking.  


“And your friend too, Apollo?” For a second Miles is confused before he remembers Phoenix. He’ll wait until later to question the supposed art students lack of creativity on the name front later. “I don’t know anyone else quite as… sharp as him,” he says. There’s a split second of silence before they both laugh, a lot more than they should for a joke so bad, but Gregory always told bad jokes and Miles always found them hilarious and Phoenix… did have ridiculous hair.  


The laughter fades, and as it does, Gregory pulls his chair closer. His face becomes serious, though not in an unhappy way. His thinking face, Miles would call it.  


“… What is your name?” he asks, and Miles swallows loudly.  


“Fey-”  


“Your real name,” Gregory asks. Miles wants to look away but his fathers dark eyes stare deep into his own eyes, and he cannot help but watch back, drinking in every last moment.  


“…. Miles,” he says, and he can feel tears forming in his eyes.  


Gregory’s lips twitch. “And… Apollo?” Miles blinks slowly, pressing back the tears.  


“… Phoenix,” he whispers.  


In the low lighting, Miles isn’t sure if his fathers eyes are filling with tears too, but he hasn’t time to look properly, before Gregory stands up, leans over and pulls him into a hug. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and for a second Miles freezes. This is wrong, he cannot do this, cannot let him know.   


Then he throws his arms around his father’s middle, still sitting on the bed. He buries his face in his father’s jacket, and he knows now that the tears will not stop for anything. He hears Gregory’s voice from above.  


“I knew it… I could recognise my son a mile off,” he says, and even through the tears, Miles laughs, louder than he has in a long time. They stay for a while, Miles holding onto his father tighter than he has ever held anything. Slowly, he untangles himself from him, and Gregory moves to sit by him on the bed.  


“Now,” he starts, and Miles is all ears once again. “I have no idea what you’re doing here, or quite frankly how you’re here,” and Miles goes to start explaining but Gregory holds up a hand,  


“And I don’t think you should, some things… are better left unsaid. I’ve always guessed there was more to this world that just what we can see. I don’t know why you came back, but I am glad,” he says.  


“Why?” Miles asks, and suddenly speaking doesn’t seem so hard anymore.  


“Because now I know, that no matter what, my son has become a wonderful man,” he says, a grins stretching across his face. Miles looks confused though.   


“But I - I’m not an attorney like you father, I didn’t do what I was supposed to do-” Gregory smiles. 

“Miles, I don’t care. People’s paths changes all the time before they find one to settle on. You might not be doing what I expected but son, you do the right thing. Phoenix was telling me everything about you, how brilliant you are, how the two of you work together, in unison,” Gregory chuckles again.  


“He actually said you do most of the work though,” and Miles actually snorts. He doesn’t remember when he became five again but it makes Gregory laugh harder.  


“At least he got that part right,” he mutters. Gregory is almost wheezing now, one hand clutching his chest as he laughs.  


“You- you,” he takes a moment to attempt to control himself. “You sound just like Miles, well this years Miles. Good to know you haven’t really changed much, son,” he says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Miles cannot help his own grin. 

They speak for a few moments more, Miles giving him vague details about his work - his promotion, Phoenix loosing and then regaining his badge, Trucy. Gregory asks why he is telling him so much.  


“Won’t this, you know, jeopardise the timeline?” he asks and Miles shakes his head. 

“I trust you father,” he says, and there is a twinge of sadness when he thinks that really, Gregory won’t have the time to see of change any of those events. They continue to speak, small stories Miles knows Gregory won’t get to see.  


After what feels like hours, but must have been less than one, there are footsteps again. Miles looks up to see Phoenix coming towards the door.  


“Do we need to go?” he asks, and there is a painful sadness filling him, even though he knew this would have to end soon. Phoenix nods back, his hands thrust in his pockets. Miles and Gregory both stand in unison and Phoenix blinks in awe at the sight. Both of them, so similar. Miles has become his father in so many ways and it makes Phoenix’s heart swell.  


“It was good seeing you,” Gregory says to Miles, and then he turns to Phoenix. “And you too Phoenix,” and the attorney jumps so hard he almost whacks his head on the doorframe. “You told him?!” he all but screams and Gregory waves a hand. 

“No, no of course not,” he says and Miles cuts in. 

“He’s just too clever, Wright, saw straight through us,” and Gregory smiles. Phoenix looks as though he has just had ten years knocked off of him, and then Gregory says.

“Actually I saw _wright_ through you,” Phoenix groans, and Miles laughs alongside his father, and it fills the room, a wonderful, happy sound. It echoes through the hall even as they leave, it hovers as they say their goodbyes and it stays with Miles in his heart forever, where he can take it out whenever he needs, and remember one last moment, one last beautiful moment with his father.  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry once again for anyone waiting on other updates to other fics. I am struggling so much to finish all my uni things this semester I barely have time to write, and most of what I write like this is for the fun of it. Everything will be finished eventually, I hope you don't mind sticking around for it? Thanks again for all the comments and kudos, it's great to know others have enjoyed this as much as I have writing it <3


End file.
